


We Have to Find Him

by shadowhostage (thenakednymph)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2017-12-04 09:05:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/708996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenakednymph/pseuds/shadowhostage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin is kidnapped, his magic bound, and he's forced to run for his life, hunted like an animal while Arthur struggles to find him before it's too late.<br/>~<br/>"Are you real this time?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Have to Find Him

**Author's Note:**

  * For [novemberlite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/novemberlite/gifts).



“We have to find him.” Arthur paced back and forth across his chamber, his bare feet striking the stones with sharp slaps. It was the middle of the night, but he was too wound up with worry to sleep. Again. Since Merlin’s disappearance every little piece of information they’d managed to find had only made the situation more bleak. If what they’d discovered proved to be true, Merlin had been kidnapped by a rogue group of men intent on hunting down wizards and sorcerers, binding their magic and then hunting them like animals.

The rumors were terrifying if true and now those same men had Merlin. The possibility of Merlin being a sorcerer was preposterous, and if these people were starting to target non-magic users they needed to be dealt with. Uther had allowed them to work in the shadows, turning a blind eye to the horrors of what was happening because it was riding the land of magic, but Arthur was disgusted by it. No one deserved to be hunted like that. It wasn’t human.

Based on their information Merlin could be dead already. Captives didn’t last much longer than a week and Merlin had already been missing for almost two. The thought churned Arthur’s stomach. They were running out of time. If they hadn’t already.

“We have to find him,” Arthur insisted, more to himself than the knight who’d heard him pacing and muttering and had stopped to check on him.

Leon watched Arthur pace like a caged animal, restless energy crackling off him. “But where do we start sire?” the knight asked. “We have a hundred different leads, but picking the wrong one is surely a death sentence for Merlin.” He leveled his gaze at Arthur. “We’ll only get one chance.”

Arthur ran a weary hand over his face, finally pausing in his constant pacing. “I know.” He turned resolutely to Leon. “Bring me the maps,” he ordered. “We’re going to find him.”

 ~

 Merlin’s heart raced like a frantic rabbit's and again he cursed the wretched torque around his neck, limiting him to all but the most basic of magics. He blinked sweat from his eyes and tried to swallow past his dry throat, tongue thick in his mouth.

He glanced over his shoulder, knowing the riders wouldn’t be far behind him. He hunkered lower in the brush, staring out over the vast emptiness leading to the mountains and his only real hope for survival. If he could make it there he could navigate the caves and hopefully lose the men intent on pursuing him. One of the few spells left to him allowed him to find a path through the land ahead of him, laying the ground out in his mind like a map and his knowledge of the terrain had been the only thing keeping him alive, but his luck was quickly running out.

The land before him held nothing by way of concealment but he had little choice; the riders were almost on top of him.

Thorns and brush tugged at Merlin’s clothes, leaving his skin raw and a path a mile wide behind him, but there was little he could do about it. He’d never had Arthur’s penchant for stealth.

He swiped the back of his hand over his cracked and bleeding lips before setting his teeth and throwing himself from cover, making a desperate run for the mountains, miles away. He ran flat out with what strength he had left, glancing back over his shoulder ever few yards, terror biting at his heels. Hounds bayed somewhere in the distance, spurring him on even faster, his eyes forever straying to the vanishing tree line behind him.

So focused was he on what might be coming up behind him he didn’t see the horses riding him down until a crossbow bolt struck him hard in the thigh, knocking him off his feet. He came to a stop in the dust, gasping for breath and stared owlishly down at the bolt, unable to process what had happened. He couldn't even feel it.

Numb to the pain Merlin clamored to his feet and then the horses were on him. In desperation Merlin threw out his hands, sparks flying from his fingers and swirling around the rider’s heads allowing Merlin to duck between swinging blades and the stomping of hooves, running again as the riders shouted at each other or let loose piercing war cries, driving Merlin harder, desperate for cover. He willed the mountains closer and almost turned back for the trees, but the hounds bayed from behind him as the riders turned their horses and charged, their whoops and cries ringing in his ears.

Merlin squeezed his eyes shut and ran headlong and blind for the mountains as the riders struck. He screamed as a rider passed him, swinging his sword and nearly severing Merlin’s arm in a spray of blood, the force spinning him around and knocking him to the ground. He lay stunned as the rider turned, grinning down at him before slowly dismounting from his horse with liquid grace, his sword pointed at Merlin’s chest. Merlin scrambled backwards on one arm, the other hanging dead at his side, but then the rider was on him, bending to one knee and straddling Merlin’s hips. He pulled the sword back with a leer, his eyes wide and dark with bloodlust as he tensed to drive the sword through Merlin’s heart.

Merlin froze, blind with terror and stared in horror at the man above him as blood sprayed from the bolt exploding through his neck. At first he blinked in surprise, his sword still held aloft and Merlin thought one of the others had killed him, wanting to end Merlin’s life himself like dogs fighting over a kill.

The man opened his mouth and blood frothed from his lips, spattering across Merlin face before the sword fell from his hand and he toppled forward, blanketing Merlin, his body twitching as the life bled out of him.

“Get off him,” a voice snapped as the dying man was drug from Merlin’s chest. Merlin lay trembling in the mud, his eyes drawn by the wet gurgling coming from the dying man beside him. Their eyes locked and Merlin saw the moment the breath left him.

Terror and adrenaline made him tremble, his mind numb and he looked hollowly up at the man towering over him, the crossbow in his arms and Merlin knew he was going to die.

“Merlin?” Arthur lowered the bow in his hands, his movements slow and measured like he was afraid of scaring him and that was when Merlin realized he was hyperventilating. He struggled to draw breath, his throat closed tight as he stared up at Arthur with bulging eyes. He knelt beside him, touching Merlin’s cheek.

“Breathe Merlin,” he coaxed softly, “it’s going to be all right.” Merlin chocked, his breathing shallow and rapid. Arthur took a moment to take in the gaping wound on Merlin’s arm and the bolt in his leg and his gaze turned fierce and protective. He met Merlin’s blank eyes, running his thumb against his cheek.

When he could finally breathe again Merlin reached for Arthur, numb fingers fumbling against Arthur’s jaw, his eyes searching, wide and dark.

“Are you real this time?” he asked and the sound broke Arthur’s heart.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “I’m really here.” He caught Merlin’s bloodied hand seconds before something inside Merlin snapped and he threw himself at Arthur, wrapping his arms around him and wept. Startled, Arthur froze in the embrace before pulling Merlin closer, crushing him against his chest, burying his face in Merlin’s dark hair, the nearness of him finally beginning to unwind the painful coil of his heart. Merlin clutched at him desperately, clawing at Arthur’s ring mail as if trying to pull him closer, clinging to the reality of him and Arthur held him tighter, his fingers curling in Merlin’s torn tunic, his nails scraping against Merlin’s skin until finally Merlin began to pull away. Arthur almost didn’t let him.

When their eyes met again some of the madness had left Merlin’s and Arthur wondered just how close he’d come to losing his mind. It wasn’t a thought he wanted to linger on.

Merlin tried to scrub the tears from his eyes, still choking on sobs and Arthur thumbed away his tears.

“Can you stand,” he asked softly.

Merlin laughed, a hysterical, broken sound, shrill even to his own ears and it made the hair on Arthur’s arms stand on end. “I don’t think I can even wiggle my toes,” he managed through the tears. “But for you…” He let the sentence hang in the air before struggling to rise, clinging to Arthur like he was his lifeline. When he couldn’t stand Arthur lifted him in his arms, trying to avoid the bolt in his leg. He shifted Merlin’s weight, their noses bumping and then their eyes locked. Arthur stilled, searching Merlin’s eyes, Merlin trembling uncontrollably as he went into shock.

Arthur wasn’t sure who moved first, but one moment he was staring at Merlin and the next he was pouring his soul in Merlin’s mouth. His fingers clutched Merlin so tightly it would bruise but he couldn’t bring himself to let go. Merlin’s bloodied hands cupped Arthur’s face, trying to pull him closer and Arthur pressed so forcefully into the kiss he was afraid he’d split Merlin’s lips open on his teeth. Merlin moaned and Arthur chased the sound past his lips and across his tongue, leaving them both breathless.

One of the knights coughed lightly but Arthur pressed another kiss to Merlin’s bleeding lips before turning to him. “Did any of them escape?” he asked.

“A few sire.” Leon was the one to answer. “What do you want us to do?”

Arthur looked between each of his knights, all of them wearing similar looks of anger and fierce determination. None of them were willing to let what had happened to Merlin go. Arthur understood that feeling all too well. Merlin was one of them, knight or no, servant or no and no one would get away with treating him like this.

Arthur looked to the battered sorcerer in his arms, but when he spoke his words were for Leon. “I want them dead to a man.” The anger on his face was crippling as he turned to Leon. “Kill them all.”

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by The Game (I think...it was a movie with Ice-T), The Most Dangerous Game and this work: http://shadow-hostage.deviantart.com/art/merlin-walk-away-victorious-253845766 Because it needed a story. Obviously.


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